the three stages of quiche
by 2028
Summary: "a baked flan or tart with a savory filling thickened with eggs." Or a story in which Rick and Drew discuss funerals, their destruction of quiche and decide, for that reason, neither one of them can die.


"So um, try to avoid dying." Drew said, trying to be light despite his drawn face.

"You mean I can't get blown up?" Rick asked, trying to match the tone.

"I would prefer that you didn't."

"So I have to steer clear of snipers too." Rick checked.

"Probably best."

Rick looked at Drew for a second, wondering what to say, knowing that he couldn't promise anything one way or the other.

"My life would be better if you could manage it." Drew admitted.

"Yea?"

"Yea, funerals? Very boring to plan." Drew explained.

"Lots of speeches." Short sentences are better, Rick decided.

"Flowers."

"Pictures."

"Quiches to pick; the options can get complicated." Drew said.

"That's what stumps you?"

"There are a lot of styles okay?"

Rick rubbed Drew's shoulder with one hand.

"Plus, I am fairly certain that if I served quiche I would never be able to eat it again and I like quiche." Drew leaned into Rick's hand.

"No you don't."

"In small amounts I do."

"Well, I'll do everything I can to make sure you can skip the quiche store." Rick promised, being reminded of the Princess Bride. Forbidden romance? Check. Unresolved emotions? Check, though not as much now. Metaphors to hide said unresolved emotions? Check. Loved one leaving, results in a possibly heart wrenching end? Check. They could practically write a sequel.

"I appreciate that." Drew said, staring into Rick's shoulder, swinging one hand forward, almost nervously. Rick caught it, glancing over one shoulder.

"I love you." He said, both of them knowing that the buses were loading and this goodbye had to come to an end.

"I love you too."

"See you when I get back." Rick mumbled, breaking away and biting his lip, taking a deep breath and shoving the emotional back for a while.

"See you." Drew whispered to his husband's back as Rick was walking away.

* * *

The first sensation of blood running down his stomach shocked Rick though he supposed it shouldn't. Bullet flew faster than people could dodge and there were a lot of them in the air right now.

The second sensation of fiery pain stealing his breath, he was waiting for, but being in so much pain your vision blurs out, that's something no person ever gets used to. The gray cloud cleared a bit when Rick felt a hand on his shoulder, distracting him enough to open his eyes. Above him stood the mostly contained face of the other commander on this mission.

"Dang it, man, we got them all. You had to go and get shot right at the end." The man accused as he dropped to his knees next to Rick, along telling the men starting to surround them to set up a perimeter.

"What can I say" Rick forced out, wincing when pressure landed, hard, on his stomach. "I was having too fun, wasn't sure I wanted the party to end."

"Hate to break it to you, my friend, but you are a huge wet blanket." Andres said, not looking at Rick and narrowing his eyes a bit; his gaze bounced around a couple times.

"Anyone else?" Rick asking, recognizing that Andres had conducted a head count.

"Nope, just you." Andres redirected his vision back down to Rick, smiling as if he couldn't decide what name to call him for having gotten himself injured.

"Well, I was always unique." Rick said his voice getting softer.

"That you are," Andres said, the smile faded, his face set. "But you have to be alive to be unique so none of that dying shit. You got me?"

Rick managed to grin a little, his point to tease the other man. "I would like to go on record… for having said that if I die, it was to escape you ordering me around."

"You are such an ass." Andres declared. "Unfortunately for all of us you are still alive which means you have to listen when I tell you not to blackout on me." Andres holding up his end of this tough guy conversation. More people moved around them, Andres organizing an medevac.

"It's not as if I could die anyway." Rick said, a thought occuring to him. "Drew is avoiding shops that sell quiche."

"Okay" Andres said, lifting his hand enough to shove a wad of bandages and holding them down with renewed pressure. In response, Rick pulled his neck straight and tried to stretch out, unconsciously attempting to move away from the pain in his stomach.

Someone warned him to stop moving right as Andres continued. "You can't die before you explain that comment."

"Drew" Rick said, shifting again. "Before I left… Drew told me that he hates funerals because they ruin quiche." That comment sapped most of the breath in his throat. A hand grabbed his before he could reach Andres' position but it came back slick with blood. Rick stopped moving.

"And that if he had to serve it at mine… he would… never be able to… eat it again." Rick finished slowly, his head tilting slightly to one side before a pair of hands gently pulled it upright again. There were a lot of people hovering around him, not that he could see any of them.

Andres' voice continued to distantly echo in his ears. "Well, that seems like the type of man you want to stick around for."

Telling Andres about Drew made this tour different; easier in some ways, harder in others. The idea of dying had crossed his mind many times before, followed by the thought that no one would tell Drew. No one would find him and pick up the pieces of his heart after they jumped out of his chest. Rick certainly wasn't going to die to test whether Andres would do that for his husband, but it didn't hurt to have a candidate.

"Yea." Rick mumbled under his breath, the gray from earlier coming back.

* * *

Beeping. Hospitals are so loud. Rick pried his eyes open, containing a groan when the bright light hit his eyes. Slowly, when the flashes had stopped dancing in his vision, Rick looked to his right. Hospitals, as it turns, are also full of husbands. Drew's hand rested on the edge of the bed and his slumped position indicated the length of his wait. Lines ceased his still young face and Rick shifted towards him a little, that fiery pain coming back with only painkillers to drown it.

"Drew" Rick whispered, reaching out to poke Drew's hand. After about a half second delay, Drew startled him when his eyes shot open and searched his out. Seeing Drew grin made him grin. The depth of relief in that grin, in his eyes, there were black holes shallower. Flipping his hand over and capturing Rick's, Drew let out a sigh and stared at him for another second.

"You're awake." Drew said at a normal volume, a little awed.

"It would seem."

Drew's eyes dimmed a second and he inhaled again, shaking his head, touching their combined hands to his cheek briefly.

"You scared the living daylights out of me." The tone leaked frustration but the hand holding his didn't tighten in anger.

Rick pulled Drew's hand toward him. "I'm sorry."

Drew shook his head again.

"How do you feel?" That question prompted a further internal assessment on Rick's part, but it came up okay.

"Not… great, but better than I did." Rick reported, not being able to give anything but an honest answer most of the time Drew asked that question.

"Hope so. Surgeons put enough work into it."

Rick met Drew's eyes again, seeing the panic in them starting to fade a little, but they seemed looked shaken. They stared for a second before Drew answered the question Rick had been asking without saying it.

"You're fine. Lots of bleeding because you ripped a couple veins, but now that's under control, you should make a full recovery."

The little bug of worry that had started developing in the last fifteen seconds faded, relieved in equal parts because he would eventually feel better than he did now and because he wanted the fear rattling around Drew's eyes to disappear as fast as possible.

Rick nodded, self conscious about the relief he felt. "Good."

"Yea, good." Drew agreed, the comment not at all off handed. A pause Rick didn't expect came next and Drew leaned his head to his shoulder. At the motion, Rick realized two things: this wait must have gone on long enough to cause some real uncertainty about his prognosis and second that he really wanted to hug Drew. That would have to wait a few days, but Rick could reach a hand to touch the back of Drew's head before his husband drew away and set a smile on his face, his eyes still wet.

"You're back in the US, Florida and you're here at least a couple days. So am I, thanks to Krista and Jordan, who also send these for you and told me to tell you that you are under strict orders never to get shot again." Drew handed him a tacky blue and white plastic package, keeping it low to his chest so Rick's free hand didn't have to extend far to reach it.

"Certainly can't disobey the two of them." Rick muttered reading the label on the package.

 _Cheddar and Spinach Quiches on a Stick. New Design, Same Quiche._

"Um, thank you, I think." Rick said, after staring at it for a second.

"They say and I quote 'Rick'll stick it to death, so in preparation we stabbed some quiches for him.'" Drew relayed. "I was confused too."

Rick glanced back and forth between the quiches and Drew's face. "Do I actually have to eat these?"

Drew laughed at that. "No. They have been unrefrigerated for almost a day, probably not safe to eat."

"I manage not to die and you and your friends present me with rotting, stabbed quiches as a reward?"

"Well" Drew said, not rising to the bait. "They said no one in their right mind would eat quiche on a stick so I should take them along." Rick gave Drew a look. "I don't know, as good luck or something. I was just handed quiche as I was leaving, don't look at me like that." Drew finished, his free hand surrendering.

"I repeat, I manage not to die and your friends present _you_ with rotting, stabbed quiches?"

"They were not rotting at the time I received them." Drew said simply, not exactly addressing the main point.

"We are going in circles. Especially considering I didn't die and am not planning on dying anytime soon so we have no need for quiche. Tell Krista and Jordan not to give you any more quiche."

"My pleasure." They looked at each other.

"You didn't have to make quite the entrance but I'm really happy to see you again." Drew said, the words like a scolding, but the tone far from it.

"Like I told Andres, I'm unique."

"Yea, unique in that only you can give me heart failure from thousands of miles away." Drew didn't talk like that without reason. Even with reason, Rick often had to drag it out of him. Admitting it again meant Drew hadn't recovered from the what Rick assumed was a pretty awful day, not enough to hide it like he did most of his emotions. Drew still had his hand so Rick pulled Drew down toward him and if Drew held his own weight, Rick could hug him. Waiting a couple days didn't seem like an option.

Drew's arm wound around his shoulder, under the arm that he put over Drew's back, very carefully because everything hurt but as if that could stop him.

"I'm not leaving you without a hell of a fight." Rick whispered, hearing Drew trying to control his breathing and not cry.

Drew turned in his head into Rick's neck. "I'm really happy to see you too." Rick continued, his voice emotional now too.

"I have to stop doing this." Drew said back, eventually. "I can't be falling apart on you."

"I have nowhere to be for the foreseeable future and personally I am a fan of this hugging thing." Rick said, not louder but in a laughable formal way.

Drew laughed, like a sob and a laugh, and sat up and wiped his face. "Okay done."

"Wanna see if we can shoot baskets with the quiches we don't need?" Rick asked after a second, using humor to control himself because his new stitch job couldn't handle crying.

"No."

Rick pretended to be taken back and frowned. "Suggestions?"

"Go back to sleep so you can heal and we can go home. I think I have eight bug bites and I have only been outside twice."

"No one consulted me on the location." Rick muttered, annoyed that as soon as Drew suggested it, his eyes started to slide shut. He did manage to turn toward Drew a little, against the gentle protests and pulled Drew's hand toward him again; he remembered how much he liked waking up with his husband there and by the way Drew relaxed his hand, he wasn't alone.


End file.
